Make Me Sir Quotes

The fun we’ll have tonight is called figging.

Cherise Sinclair

New Englanders could be so brusque.

Cherise Sinclair

And he calls it playing? Like, whatever happened to chess? Or cards? Or tag?

Cherise Sinclair

You are such a sleazeball, Rhodes—walking, talking proof of why siblings shouldn’t marry.

Cherise Sinclair

You dumb-ass ape, get your hand off me. What—are you the first in your family to be born without a tail?

Cherise Sinclair

By the way, you have a fine ass. Sir.

Cherise Sinclair

I felt sorry for myself since my wimpy dom can’t catch a snail crossing the sidewalk.

Cherise Sinclair

Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change.

Cherise Sinclair

If you keep all those thoughts inside, your brain will explode.

Cherise Sinclair

You want to count, Gabrielle? One! She sucked in a breath, mad enough the words slid right out. You asshole, one!

Cherise Sinclair

An older dom snorted. “Atherton uses the word escort loosely. The last time someone messed with a trainee, he threw the guy across the bar. Strolled over, waited for the idiot to stand up, punched his lights out, and dragged him by his jacket collar out of the place. Escorted him, my ass. Didn’t even wrinkle that fancy suit.” He took a sip of his beer and added, “Atherton is invariably polite, but nobody in their right mind fucks with his trainees.

Cherise Sinclair

Darlin’, I wasn’t just a Boy Scout, I was an Eagle Scout.

Cherise Sinclair

You dickweed! Are you always stupid, or is today a special occasion?

Cherise Sinclair

You know how really big guys are always nicknamed Tiny?" She didn’t wait for any response, afraid she’d chicken out. "Guess that would make you Master Munchkin, huh?

Cherise Sinclair

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

Cherise Sinclair

She couldn’t take her eyes from the dancing flame. No, this was so wrong. Candles should be used for meditation…for romance. Or on a birthday cake at least.So where was the cake? The present? The song? As he stepped closer to her—as the damned flame got way too close—she started singing. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me…” Marcus paused, looking at her in disbelief. See. I knew he didn’t have a sense of humor. “Happy birthday, dear Gabi”—she lifted her head and blew out the candle—“happy birthday to me.

Cherise Sinclair

Oh lord and master. High muckety-muck.

Cherise Sinclair

You mean you’re not God? Nooo, say it isn’t so!

Cherise Sinclair

She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”“Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked. Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?”He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter—amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass.

Cherise Sinclair